Home Is Where You Hang Yourself
by RyansKid
Summary: Not everyone can get away with killing themselves...but I did.
1. Axis Chemicals

**I do not own any of the characters described in this story in any way, shape, or form.**

_"We the jury, find the defendant…not guilty, by reason of insanity."_

I don't think anyone could have known how great an impact those two little words would have on Gotham City. None of the people in the courtroom could have known. Not Judge Faden, or Rachel Dawes, not even Harvey Dent. It was impossible for them to comprehend how the words not guilty would lead to one of the darkest periods in Gotham's history.

So now I find myself here, at Axis Chemicals. Poor Karlo is dead at my feet, and Tetch and I are being forced to watch as the Joker is lowered into a vat of toxic chemicals. Still, I can't help but think back to those words.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Jonathan Crane, I'm a doctor. A psychiatrist to be more precise. I have always been very good at what I do. I've never had any problem helping people with serious mental health issues if I so chose too.

But during my developmental years certain circumstances that were beyond my control would spawn a second consciousness. I loath to say he's a split personality because what we have together is so much more complicated than that. But needless to say, my other has had a somewhat adverse effect on my practice of medicine. The desire he instilled in me during my youth, this overwhelming desire to analyze and understand fear, would lead to my current situation.

But much has happened between that final day in court and now. So I'll start my story on that frigid December day in downtown Gotham.


	2. Pigs Is Pigs

They found me on the other side of the Narrows, the taser's electrodes still attached to my face. The police had to shoot the horse. They told me later that it wouldn't let any of the officers near me.

I assume that was because of him, my other. He has always had a special connection with animals. I think that's because he is everything in me made base. He is a creature of almost complete instinct.

But I digress. The police had me locked away in Gotham Penitentiary until my trial was ready to begin. Despite my slight frame the majority of the inmates stayed away after hearing about what I had done. The fool who did try was not met by me, but my other, and he tore the other mans throat out.

The exposure to my own gas and my brief encounter with Batman had left my mind shattered, and my other did his best to keep us going while I picked up the pieces.

When I finally did go to trial, if you can call it that, I had managed to regain a semblance of the sanity I had earlier. Assistant District Attorneys Rachel Dawes and Harvey Dent were the prosecutors, while I was assigned a bumbling public defender by the name of George Desanto.

Noble little Rachel Dawes…I can't help but think of her every time I touch the two scars on my face.

Dent and Dawes accused me of perjury, drug smuggling, planning acts of terrorism, and murder. All of those charges stuck and I was most certainly on my way to the gas chamber when my toxicology report from the night of my arrest surfaced.

Since I had been exposed to a large quantity of an unknown gas, and since there was never any hard evidence I planned the attacks on my own, even my idiot attorney was able to make a valid argument about my mental status at the time. Although I really haven't had full use of my psychological faculties since I was a young boy, but I didn't feel the need to share that with the good people of Gotham.

So after my not guilty verdict was delivered Judge Faden explained to me that I was to spend the remainder of my life in a mental institution, Arkham Asylum in specific. Of course I had no problem with that sentence at all. I loved Arkham, I've loved it since I was a boy.

I was ready to go and live quietly in the asylum for the rest of my days. But walking down the front steps of the courthouse, being led to the vehicle that would take me to my new home, I saw Dawes and Dent posing for the cameras. The sight of the two of them standing there, smiling and laughing at my expense pushed my fragile psyche over the edge.

I've known people like Rachel Dawes and Harvey Dent my entire life. Condescending bastards. Stuck up bitches. They were all the same. From grade school up into college, those people were always there.

_'Pigs __is__ Pigs.' _That's what my grandmother always said.

"Ms. Dawes! Mr. Dent! You know I'm no good at court ordered goodbyes Ms. Dawes! I'll be making a house call!"

Reporters snapped photographs of me being put into the car and frantically scribbled what I had said on their notepads. For them it was nothing but a headline. Something to put in the papers to catch readers attention.

But for me, it was a promise. One I fully intended on keeping.


	3. In The Belly Of A Shark

I have a particular question that I ask all my patients. I don't always ask them in our very first session, it often depends on how cooperative they're being. Very few of their answers leave a lasting impression, but I once asked a woman what scared her most in the world.

"My room…"

"What about your room scares you? Are you claustrophobic?"

"No…no Scarecrow that's not it."

"Well what then? What makes you more afraid of your room than of me?"

"It's like…I'm in the belly of a shark. It's so cold…and…dark."

Even after I ripped her mind apart that answer stayed with me, though I never noticed how accurate her description was until I was tossed in my very own cell. Not all cells at Arkham were as bad as the one I found myself in, I ordered patients I found uninteresting to be placed on the first floor in spotless rooms, just on the off chance a state medical inspector dropped in.

Yet I now found myself in the second basement. This floor was reserved for those inmates that were either hopelessly violent or completely beyond help. That's why it had been such a perfect place for me to practice my own kind of psychiatry. My cell was eight feet by twelve feet, with no light to speak of. I felt my way around in the dark, feeling the damp cold walls until I found a small slab on the ground that was ment to be my bed.

I had barely been in my cell an hour when my doctor, and I use the term lightly, arrived to greet me.

"Hello there Crane, so nice to see you again. Tell me, will you be staying long?"

Standing in the door laughing to himself was Lawrence Elwes flanked by my former orderlies', twin brothers Wesley and Walter. He was an incredibly unremarkable looking man with slick blonde hair and dull grey eyes.

"Elwes? Is that you? I suppose all of the qualified doctors were killed when those terrorists opened the asylum up then."

His face flushed red with embarrassment, as if the opinion of the two imbeciles next to him mattered. I knew then that Elwes would be easy to manipulate. I could use his ego to make him like puddy in my hands.

"You just remember who's wearing the strait jacket Crane. You can't go parading about in your burlap sack anymore."

The mention of my mask is when I first noticed his absence. I expected to hear him howling his awful noises from deep down in the back of mind. I thought I would feel him scratching behind my eyes like usual. But he wasn't there. My other had abandoned me upon arriving at Arkham Asylum.

Elwes slammed my cell door and stormed off. I sat there in darkness. Totally alone for the first time in years.


	4. Morphine Season

"We're real sorry about this Doc Crane."

"Yeah Doc. We're real sorry. But you're not in charge anymore so…no hard feelings alright?"

I had been at Arkham Asylum for six months and Elwes was making sure I knew who was in charge. You see I was being uncooperative. Elwes wanted me to help him write a book. One that would detail my early life, my rise to Head of Psychiatry at Arkham, my abuse of the inmates, and my eventual descent into madness.

He hadn't been very successful though, and he was growing impatient. Elwes finally ordered Wesley and Walter to try methods of persuasion I had taught them myself, which had led them to take me to the seemingly abandoned electroshock therapy room.

I say seemingly abandoned because that's what I had told the rest of the staff. Electrocution was quick to loosen the tongues of difficult patients and I had used it often. Wesley and Walter seemed to think the same would go for me.

But I wanted them to do it. I wanted them to push me far enough that he would finally come crawling back from what ever dark recess of mind he was hiding in. I figured that if I put my body in enough jeopardy he would come back. Oh how wrong I was.

The electroshock went on for a few more months before Elwes finally gave up on his idea for a book. That didn't mean he made my quiet life in the basement any easier though. One paltry meal a day was all I was afforded. I could only bathe when they came to empty out the waste bucket in my cell, and that wasn't very often.

When Wesley and Walter came to my cell one day I thought that maybe Elwes was ready to try for his book again, but I couldn't have been more mistaken. They took me out and gave me clean clothes and a warm shower before putting me back in my strait jacket and setting me in an upstairs interview room.

When she walked I was blown away. I'm certain that I looked ridiculous sitting there slack jawed and wide eyed, but she was the first actual person I had seen in almost a year. She was…angelic.

"Hello Doctor Crane, I'm Doctor Harleen Quinzel. You can call me Harley."

Being called doctor was something I had almost forgotten. This girl, and that's what she was just a girl, was stunningly beautiful. I finally regained my composure though, returning to my normal self.

"Did Elwes send you?"

"No. It seems that Doctor Elwes has given up on helping you. Something I happen to think is a mistake."

At that I couldn't help but smile. Help me? I thought the idea was preposterous.

"Really? Do you know who I am? What I'm here for?"

"Yes Doctor Crane, I'm well aware of what you did. The majority of my dissertation is about you."

"So you think you can show up here, fresh out of school, and come and play doctor? What do you want Doctor Quinzel?"

"Why don't you start by telling me about yourself? No one really knows what your childhood was like, so why not start there."

I sat there staring at her for a long time, thinking about whether or not I should answer her questions or not. Finally I decided to play along, but only on two conditions.

"If I answer your questions I have some terms. The first, seeing as how I am in a severe amount of pain from my care at the hands of Elwes, is that I would like morphine. A lot of it."

She hesitated for a moment. I could tell that she very much wanted to grant my first request, but she was still unsure.

"What's your second condition Doctor Crane?"

"At the end of our little session I get to ask you a question."

"That's all?"

I nodded, eager to see what her decision would be. She tapped her pen on her clipboard for a little while, attempting to size me up. She was probably wondering how truthful I would be if I was high on morphine. Finally she stood up and walked to the intercom on the wall next to the door.

"Melissa this is Doctor Quinzel. I need one syringe of morphine please."

After injecting me with mthe syringey morphine she sat back down across the table from me and collected her clipboard to take notes.

"Well Harley…I suppose it all started when I was born."


	5. Walk In Hell

"When you were born? I'm not sure I follow."

"The woman who gave birth to me, I suppose you would call her my mother, abandoned me on my father's door step hours after I was born."

She started to scribble notes down on her clipboard. Since she was a young psychiatrist I'm sure she wrote something about my possible abandonment issues.

"So you were raised by your father?"

"No. Daddy wasn't around much, he had a nasty heroin habit. My grandmother was the one brought me up."

"What was she like, your grand mother?"

"She was a person of great…conviction. Ultra-religious and very severe when it came to punishment."

"Did she punish you often Doctor Crane?"

"Yes."

Again she wrote notes furiously on her clipboard. I knew that if I felt like it I could give her answers that would lead her to believe I had a better grip on my own sanity than I actually did. But I decided against it. I decided that I would be honest with her.

"What would she punish you for?"

"Oh any of a wide variety of things. If the house was dirty. If I sat down at the dinner table without looking immaculate. If I didn't pray as much as she thought I should. But what really got to her was if I came home and my clothes were dirty or damaged."

"Did that happen often Doctor Crane?"

"Well the other boys at school didn't like me. I wore glasses, I was intelligent, I didn't fit in. At first it was only name calling. Scarecrow is what they would call me, because I was so thin. They had no idea it was because my grandmother would often decide I didn't deserve a meal that night. But soon it evolved into daily beatings, which would damage my clothes, which in turn would bring punishments from grandmother."

I saw the look in her eyes. It was one of complete and total empathy. It was very unprofessional.

"What would she do to punish you?"

"She would stick a burlap sack over my head, and then fasten it by tying a rope around my neck. After that she would throw me into a walk-in closet and lock me there for a day or two."

Doctor Quinzel wanted to take notes that much I could see. But apparently the recounting of my early childhood was weighing heavy on her. Finally she picked up her pen and once more started taking notes, though much slower than before.

"What was that like?"

She barely managed to get the question out. I wondered how this girl thought she was going to be a psychiatrist if she broke down during the telling of a rather traditional story of abuse.

"Well at the time I thought it was horrible. I fancied that that was what Hell must be like, nothing but suffocating darkness. But looking back now, I'm almost glad it happened."

"Glad? I don't understand."

"Those little trips to the closet helped to spawn him."

"Him? Who is that Doctor Crane?"

"My other, my better half. He was born into my mind during those days spent locked away in darkness."

"Does he have a name?"

"I'm so sorry Doctor Quinzel, but our hours up."

She turned around and looked to the clock hanging over the door. An hour had indeed passed and by law she wasn't permitted to give me any more therapy for the week.

"Damn. Alright Doctor Crane, I'll have Wesley and Walter return you to your cell."

"Wait Doctor Quinzel, I still haven't asked you my question yet."

The girl sat back down across the table from me, hands folded in front of her, fully prepared to answer any question I happened to have.

"Very well Doctor Crane. What would you like to ask me?"

I straitened up in my chair, and leaned over the table to get as close to her as possible.

"Do I scare you Doctor Quinzel?"

Apparently she found the question to be amusing because she had to cover her mouth to stop herself from giggling. As expected I was more than a little upset with such a reaction. This girl thought I was joking when in fact I was being deadly serious.

"No. Doctor Crane you do not scare me in the least."

"Really? Well what if I told you that that twenty minutes ago I managed to get out of my strait jacket?"


	6. Emergency Broadcast Syndrome

Ah there it was. There was that look I cherished so dear. The look on a person's face as they slowly realize how much danger they're really in and just how scared they should be. That was the look present on the face of the girl in front of me.

"Your biggest mistake was giving me the morphine. I knew I would have to break my wrist to get out of my jacket, so the morphine was essential. You just wanted to help me so badly didn't you?"

Before she could get out of her chair I dove across the table, wrestling her to the ground. She was already showing signs of intense fear. Dilated pupils, rapid breathing, a thin layer of sweat enveloping her soft skin.

"Another mistake is that you didn't bring a sedative in case something like this happened. You also don't have a pager on you, so your only hope is the emergency broadcast button on the intercom over by the door.. Now I'll ask you again…"

I grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head into the ground to stop her from struggling.

"Tell me _Harley_, do I scare you?"

"Yes…yes Doctor Crane. You're scaring me."

"What about me scares you the most? Maybe you're afraid I'll kill you? No, I don't think that's it."

I pinned her arms down and set my face very close to hers. I felt her squirm as I pushed her legs apart with my own.

"A pretty girl like you can only be afraid of one thing. Are you afraid I'm going to take advantage of you Doctor Quinzel? That I'm going to rape you?"

"Yes…please Doctor Crane. Please don't do this Jonathan."

Looking back now I know that's the thing that through me off. No one had called me by my first name in a long time. That momentary lapse was enough for her get a hand free. She started twisting the wrist I had broken, which wouldn't have bothered me if the morphine hadn't started to lose its effect.

I finally release her but stayed on the ground, doubled over in pain. She meanwhile ran to the intercom and, unbeknownst to me, called for the orderlies. I rose to my feet and started to move towards her.

"Where are you going Doctor Quinzel? I promise I won't charge you for the therapy. The first hour is always free."

At that moment Wesley and Walter burst into the interview room, and upon seeing the state of Doctor Qunizel, rushed towards me. If my other had been with me then he would have made me fight. I might have ended up clawing out Wesley's eye, or I might have made Walter useless to a woman. But he had abandoned me at that point.

As Elwes ran in with a sedative I looked towards Doctor Quinzel. As I drifted into a chemically induced sleep I made sure to say my goodbyes.

"I'll see you next week Doctor Qunizel. We made…some…good progress this…"

Then nothing but the dreamless dark only nitrazepam can bring.


	7. My Consolation

When I finally came to I wasn't where I expected to be. Instead of my dark little hole in the basement I was in the asylum's Intensive Care Unit. Wesley and Walter had done more damage than I thought. But more surprising than my injuries was who was sitting at the foot of my bed.

"Hello Jonathan. Are you ready to begin our session?"

There sat Harleen Quinzel, clipboard in hand. She looked as beautiful as ever, though she was sporting a bandage on her forehead from when I had slammed it into the floor.

"What do you want Doctor Quinzel?

"To help you Jonathan."

"If you could be more specific I would be appreciative. Help me how?"

"I want to rid you of the spilt personality that was responsible for our little altercation last week."

As I mentioned earlier, I've never called him a split personality. He is much more than that. I wasn't upset with Doctor Quinzel for calling him such, but it angered me that she would even mention him at all.

"You think he's the reason I attacked you? Well I'm so sorry to disappoint you Doctor Quinzel, but I did it because I wanted to."

On her face was a look of puzzlement. Obviously she had hypothesized that the abuse I suffered had led me to develop a more violent personality which was responsible for every bad thing I had done.

"Oh I'm sorry. Did you think that I was a good person? That all the bad things I've done were his fault? Were you under the impression that my other actually took possession of my body? You're mistaken Doctor Quinzel. All he does is make suggestions, and during this last year he hasn't even done that. I do what I do for one reason and one reason only. I enjoy it."

"So he speaks to you?"

"No he just…"

She had her pen in hand, clipboard at the ready. But I wouldn't be so cooperative this time. She had nothing to offer me to make me talk. At least that what I thought.

"Why should I keep talking to you Doctor Quinzel? I already know what scares you more than anything, so you really hold no more interest for me."

"I can let you practice again."

"Come again? You said I could practice medicine again?"

"Doctor Elwes has driven away most of the other doctors, at least all the ones who care about helping people. I know you can help people Jonathan. I can get you sessions with the patients everyone has given up on."

I thought her proposal over for a moment. There was no way she would actually let me practice my own kind of medicine, but I did have a passion for psychiatry. However I wasn't passionate enough about it to want to continue those pointless discussions. Though before I could tell her no I felt an all too familiar scratching behind my eyes.

"**AGREE CRANE! TELL HER YESSSSSSSSS! WEEEEEEE CAN USE THEM!**"

It wasn't very often that he spoke coherently. More often than not he would just make terrible animalistic screams from the back of my mind. The louder he screamed the more I knew he wanted something. But when he actually spoke, that's when I knew he truly wanted something.

'_WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I THOUGHT YOU HAD ABANDONED ME!'_

"**IIIIIIII WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU CRAAAAAAAANE! I WASSSSSSS WAITING! NOW ANSWER!**

I then realized that Doctor Quinzel was still staring at me, and that several minutes had passed.

"Very well Doctor Quinzel. I accept your proposition. I'll answer every question you ask as long as you let me treat the most dangerous inmates Arkham has."

"Great! Alright first I want to know about what the rest of your childhood was…"

"No, No, No Doctor Quinzel. We'll continue next week. Right now I have someone to catch up with."

I rolled over, closed my eyes, and let him swallow me up.


	8. What Crawled Up The Rabbit Hole

The first patient that Doctor Quinzel arranged for me to see was Jervis Tetch. I was given a white lab coat to hide my asylum uniform and was put into an interview room upstairs. I was also given Tetch's file which included his medical history.

Looking at through his file I saw that Elwes had labeled him an obsessive-compulsive, highly delusional, psychotic manic depressive. All this I found terribly boring and I was regreting agreeing to Doctor Quinzel's terms when I read what Tetch was committed for.

Apparently Jervis was a serial pedophile and child killer. He had worked as a technician at a photo shop, Wonderland Photos, and would use the fowarding addresses to find his victims. Don't misunderstand me, I did not find his pedophilia in any way appealing. But what was interesting was his choice of targets and how he would kill them.

Every child he chose to abduct was a girl. All were under the age of ten years with blonde hair and blue eyes. Tetch would take them to the photo shop then send them through a maze he had created. The maze itself was fashioned to resemble Lewis Carrols's _Alice in Wonderland _books.

Tetch would take various photos of the girls while they worked through the maze, and then upon reaching the end he would molest them and then slit their throats. The media had even gone as far as to nickname Tetch 'The Mad Hatter'.

Wesley and Walter finally brought Tetch up to the interview room for our little session. He was a young man, younger than myself anyway, maybe twenty years old. He was of both average height and build with hair that was so blonde it almost looked white. I also noticed that he had overly large front teeth, giving him a somethwat rabbit like appearance.

"Hello Jervis. I'm Doctor Crane, please have a seat."

"W-w-what happened to Doctor Elw-w-w-es?"

"Nevermind him Jervis, I have some questions for you."

"Like w-w-w-w-what?"

A good psychiatrist knows that stutters often develop during childhood, often after a traumatic experience. Tetch's childhood would be a could place to begin questioning him.

"Let's talk about your childhood."

"W-w-w-w-what about it?"

"How was your relationship with your parents?"

"Oh I loved my Mommy and Daddy."

"What about your sister?"

I noticed that Tetch's mood began to change at the mention of his sister.

"I don't have a sister."

"Now Jervis if you want me to help you I need you to be honest with me. I know you have a sister. It says so right here in your file."

"Her name is Alice. I hate her."

"Why is that Jervis?"

"Mommy and Daddy always loved her better. They never paid attention to me. Never said anything to me. They hated me. They told me I w-w-w-was a mistake. Then Mommy and Daddy got divorced. Daddy took me and Mommy took Alice. Daddy always wanted to see Alice, but Mommy never tried to see me."

"What about the the girls at the photo shop? Did you hate them as well?"

"No. I loved them. I w-w-wanted to give them w-what they w-w-w-w-wanted."

"What was that Jervis?"

"Every little girl's dream. I sent them to W-w-w-w-w-wonderland."

"When you were young, did you want to go to Wonderland Jervis?"

"Oh yes, more than anything. The one thing Mommy and Daddy did for me was read me _Alice in Wonderland_. I loved it so much."

I had learned why Tetch was so fascinated with _Alice and Wonderland_, and I had learned why all of his victims were girls. But the reason for his pedophilia had still not been explained.

"Why did you molest them Jervis, those little girls?"

"Oh Doctor Crane don't make me talk about that, please don't."

"Jervis, I want to help you. Why?"

"W-w-w-w-well, Alice has to w-w-wake up at the end."

That's when things began to make more sense. Tetch abducted and killed the girls to get back at his parents, who he thought loved his sister more than him. He sent them through the Wonderland maze because internally he regretted what he was doing. He molested them because his sister Alice, who each girl he took reminded him of.

Of course I never had any intention of actually helping Tetch. My other had made an excellent suggestion during my stay in the ICU.

"Jervis we made some very good progress today. Now I have a question for you."

"W-w-w-what Doctor Crane?"

"If I could send you back to Wonderland one day, would you like to go?"

"Oh yes Doctor Crane, I w-w-w-w-w-would love to."

"Then when that day comes I'll make sure to find you."

He was to be the first of my 'murder'.


	9. Give Mommy A Kiss

My sessions with Doctor Quinzel continued, as did my sessions with the other inmates. Many of them were useless to me, but occasionally I would be set up with one that I liked. Basil Karlo was one such occasion.

He entered the interview room in chains, flanked by Walter and Wesley. Karlo was a literal giant of a man. He was well over seven feet tall and must have weighed in excess of four hundred and fifty pounds. He sat on the floor across from me, still eye level with me despite his lack of a chair. He sat quietly as I read through his file.

Karlo had tore several EMT's limb from limb when they attempted to remove his mother's corpse from their apartment. Apparently he was mildly retarded and showed signs of life long physical abuse. His most disfigured part of his body, his face, was due to a birth defect however.

"Hello Basil. My name is Doctor Crane."

"Hi Doctor Crane."

"Basil, do you what you're doing here?"

"I think I was bad."

"You think? You killed four men. Ripped them apart with your bare hands."

"They tried to steal Momma. They was mean."

It was obvious that Karlo's retardation was the reason he was here. But I sensed that he could still be very valuble to me when I finally left Arkham.

"Did you love your mother Basil?"

"Yup! You bet I do! Momma loves me too."

"What about all those scars you have Basil? Where did they come from?"

I pointed to the numerous scars that adorned Karlo's body. They ranged from cuts to what appeared to be cigarette burns.

"Those are Momma's kisses."

"Your mother did that to you?"

"Yup! I would cry when she kissed me. Then she would hug me and rub my head and say _Shhhhh! It's ok baby, Momma loves you. Momma loves her little Clayface._"

"Clayface?"

"Yup! Momma said my face was like clay. She would say I was the ugliest boy ever. Wasn't my Momma nice Doctor Crane?"

"Do you like that name Basil?"

"Yup! I like that name a bunch Doctor Crane. Momma always called me her little Clayface."

"What about your father Basil? Did you have a father?"

"Yup! I had lots of Daddys'. Momma would bring home a Daddy everynight. Sometimes I would see the same Daddy more than once, but only sometimes. Sometimes they would give me kisses to."

Even I had some degree of pity for poor Karlo. His bitch of a mother, the whore that she was, had abused him both phsyically and mentally him his entire life. Perhaps even more appaling was that she led him to believe that was how she showed affection, which would cause him to ask for more abuse.

"What happened to your mother Basil?"

"One day she asked me to give her a kiss, so I did. Then she went to sleep and she was still sleeping when those mean men came over."

Karlo had killed his own mother, which I'm sure was unintentional. Perhaps in her old age she forgot what Karlo thought were kisses. Maybe she knew and was just ready for her miserable life to be over. I'm still not entirely sure, Karlo never explained it any further.

"Do you like me Basil?"

"Yup! I sure do Doctor Crane, you're real nice."

"If I take you away from all these mean men, will you come and stay with me?"

"Wait a minute, you mean like a family?"

"Yes Basil. Exactly like a family."

"Yup! I would really like that Doctor Crane. Me and you can be like brothers"

Walter and Wesley lifted the massive man from the floor and escorted him back to his cell. Karlo was one more I added to my flock.


	10. Orchestra of Wolves

My greatest addition to the flock came days before my…release. I was again placed in the interview room. Actually it was more akin to being thrown into a cage with a wild animal.

There at the table sat a black haired man. He was athletic and very handsome, with dark eyes. I sat across from him and began to read his file.

It said his name was Frank Carter. Elwes had labeled him as an impossible case. He had only been at the asylum a week and had already killed one unfortunate nurse. Doctor Quinzel probably thought I would be able to help him, but of course I never planned to do so.

Carter was a perfect example of someone who is simply born into insanity. He was raised in a two parent home, suffered no abuse, and was afforded every opportunity a person could want. He had gone to college, had a high paying job at Wayne Enterprises, even a nice car. But Carter had a very nasty habit.

He was convicted of kidnapping, raping, and murdering twenty-six people. His file said he fancied himself to be some kind of a wolf. A monster that stalked women throughout Gotham.

Upon finishing his file I noticed there was an evidence bag next to my chair. Inside was what looked to be an ether mask and some type of hood. I decided to ignore that and begin my interview.

"So Frank, I'm Doctor Crane. Why don't…"

"That's not my name."

I was originally taken aback. His file had made no mention of a spilt personality, and he had no known aliases.

"Well then what is your name?"

"My name is Casanova."

Casanova, the famous lover of women. I thought that name was fitting for such a brutal rapist. I realized that Casanova might have been the name of his wolf persona. So I then decided to take a new line of questioning.

"What are you Casanova?"

"I'm basically a man."

"Basically? I'm not sure I follow. Could you be more specific?"

"I have the head of a wolf, and the appetite of an entire land."

"What do you need to fill your appetite?"

"I like to feed on broken hearts."

At the time I didn't understand what he ment. I now understand that he was refering to the hearts of the men he would abduct along with the women. Carter would force them to watch the rape and murder of the women they were with. Then he would cut out their hearts and eat them.

"I see that you like masks."

"Do you have mine?"

"Yes. Would you like it?"

"Give it to me now."

I reached down to the evidence bag and pushed it across the table towards Carter. He pulled out the ether mask first and took several long draws from it. Then he pulled out what I thought was hood. In actuality it was a mask. It was of tanned leather, and resembled a wolf's head. I would later that it was made of human skin.

Carter sat there quietly with his mask on for a long time. Then he let out what I can only describe as a howl. I then decided to ask him the same questions once more.

"What is your name?

"The name is Casanova."

"What are you?"

"I ain't nothing but a beast."

"Are you hungry Casanova?"

"I'm fucking starving!"

"What if I offered you the chance to feed until your stomach was ready to burst? Would you want a chance like that?"

"What would you want?"

"Nothing but your loyalty."

"Fine."

I knew that Carter would be the last member of my flock I would need. That's why didn't warn Walter and Wesley. When they came to take us back to our cells Carter broke Walter's neck. Wesley and some other orderlies were finally able to subdue him though. Carter was truly mesemerizing.

My flock was ready. Soon the man who laughs would come and find me. He would my let loose my flock on Gotham. He would send my other and I to sow the seeds of fear throughout the city. It would be glorious.


	11. He Who Laughs Best

I awoke to the sound of screaming. I didn't move at first. I just laid there on my bed and listened to those lovely, lovely screams. But then something cut through that blissful din. The sound of hysterical laughter, and it was moving closer.

I rose to feet, not knowing what to expect. I thought it might have been a group of old patients of mine. Surely they wanted revenge, and probably still thirst for it today. But the person who opened my door was Doctor Quinzel.

"Hello Jonathan. Would you come out here please, I have someone I want you to meet."

As I stepper through the door I saw Walter's dead body on the ground. He had been stabbed through the eye with a syringe. Standing over the body was a curly headed blonde man. What I found odd at the time was that he was shaking with uncontrollable laughter.

"Who is that Doctor Quinzel?"

"Please don't call me that anymore Jonathan. My name is Harley, Harley Quinn."

"HAHAHA! Harley Quinn, it's almost like it was ment to be."

His voice was…strange. It was high, but not squeaky. Coarse, but not gravely. The man then turned and walked towards me. That's the first time I saw his face. He had terrible scars at the corner of his mouth. Those scars made his already freakishly large smile grotesque.

"What's up Doc? HAHAHA!"

"Do I know you?"

"Jonathan, this is Mister J. My new boyfriend."

The man then drew me close to him, putting his arm around my shoulder. He then leaned close to my face so as not to be heard by Harley.

"Don't listen to her Doc. She's not right…in the head…HAHAHA!"

"What do you want with me Mister?"

"Joker's the name. Death, destruction, and overall umayhem is my game. And you Doc Crane…you are very good at all three of those."

"You know me?"

"My formee, you could call them my employers I suppose, told me all about you. How you betrayed Carmine Falcone, something which I admire by the way. How you tore his mind to pieces and left him to rot in here. They told me about this little gas you make…"

"I can't make it anymore. I don't have the proper chemicals."

"Oh don't be so gloomy Doc. Suppose I could get you what you need?"

"What would you want in return?"

"Well of course I want you to help me take back the city. I have a lot to fill you in on, but to sum things up I killed Harvey Dent's family and scarred him with battery acid. Now he's a homicidal madmen, much like you and me, calls himself Two-Face and is waging his own little war on Gotham."

"Anything else?"

"I want to kill Batman. Am I wrong to assume you feel the same?"

"Not at all."

"Excellent! I also want you to make a different version of your gas. Something that's a tad bit funnier. Do you think you could do that?"

The Joker's offer was an interesting one. I liked the idea of turning Gotham City into a living Hell, and I would enjoy taking revenge on Batman. But being funny was never something I was good at. Sarcasm? Yes. But funny? Not as much.

"I get to experiment on as many people as I want?"

"I'll abduct random folks from the street myself Doc"

"I have some friends here. Friends that you would like. Friends that would be helpful in accomplishing your goals. I want them out of here."

"Of course Doc. I've already let most of the loonies out of here. I don't think Arkham is going to miss another three. HAHAHA!"

After he had released Casanova, Clayface, and the Mad Hatter I remembered one more little thing I would want.

"Joker, I want something else."

"You know Doc, you're being awfully demanding. What is it?"

"I want to kill Rachel Dawes."

"HAHAHA! Oh is that it Doc? Well I'm afraid you'll have to get in line. HAHAHA!"

My flock and I followed the Joker and Harley out of the asylum, that hysterical laughter echoing into the night.


	12. Helping Harley

The Joker led us to a safe house deep in the heart of the Narrows. He had obviously been expecting to escape incarceration. But what I fond truly astounding at the time was that he already had a laboratory ready for me to use, complete with a full range of chemicals.

"Alright Doc, get to work."

And work I did. I directed Clayface, Casanova, and Tetch to assist the Joker in readying the hideout for the arrival of more of Joker's thugs. Meanwhile I went about creating both my fear gas and Joker's, well I suppose the best way to describe it is laughing gas. Though that is a tad cliché.

Now my original gas was derived from a hallucinogenic flower given to me by Ra's al Ghul. Unfortunately I was not in possession of said flower so I had to synthesize a gas out of the chemicals provided to me by Joker, which took me all night. I was working on his gas when I was interrupted.

"Oh Doc, come quick. We're on the TV."

I had originally intended to ignore him. I wanted to finish his first batch of gas so I could make more of my own.

"_This morning we bring you some truly terrifying news from the Narrows."_

My other began to howl at the mention of the word terrifying, forcing me into the other room. There I saw the Joker. He had dyed his hair green and applied makeup to his face, making his smile even more hideous.

I sat down next to Harley who had also applied grease paint to her face, though hers was much more carefully applied. I remember noticing how there wasn't something quite right with her, but I couldn't tell what it was.

"_There was a break out at Arkham Asylum last night. It appears a majority of the inmates were released, though by who remains unknown. Several dangerous inmates managed to escape. These include the child murder Jervis "Mad Hatter" Tetch and brutal rapist Frank "Casanova" Carter. But the most dangerous inmate Arkham held is also on the loose."_

"Here it comes Harley baby. They'll read through that big long list of murders I've committed. Talk about how psychotic I am. Maybe warn everyone to stay indoors. Is that popcorn ready?"

Joker propped his feet on the table in front of him and leaned back. I fully expected the news anchor to say everything Joker thought he would. But both of us were wrong.

"_Jonathan Crane, now better known as Scarecrow, is believed to have fled into the city late last night. Crane, who was the former head of psychiatry at Arkham Asylum, was convicted of conspiring in the terrorist attacks that struck the city several years ago. Lieutenant Jim Gordon of the Gotham Police Department had no comment."_

Now during my years at Arkham I had often seen inmates fly into insane rages. But I expected most of them too. But to see the Joker act the same was shocking to me.

He dove across the table and snatched the little television up. Then as he proceeded to bash it into the floor he screamed about how they could leave _him_ out. He was perplexed as to how they could talk about a pencil necked weakling who wears a sack on his head and completely ignore _him._

Not even Harley could calm him. When she did try Joker began to beat her about the head in face. Some of the blows were so violent I was sure they would kill her. None of this knew what to do, so we did nothing. My other howled for me to stop Joker. He tried to convince me that Harley should be ours.

But Joker stopped after a little while. He then turned and walked towards me. He lifted me up by the collar, and I was about to call to Clayface for help when the Joker explained himself.

"HAHAHA! I get it Doc. ITS FUCKING HILARIOUS! It is so nice to see those stiff old news anchors get a sense of humor. But you see the problem is that I make all the jokes around here. Finish the gas Doc. We're going to be TV tonight."

The Joker then left, delivering another kick to Harley's ribs before walking out the door. I don't know where he went. But he would come back later with several armed men.

Please understand that chemistry, especially the mind altering kind, is very difficult. It requires the utmost concentration. So when Harley began to sob in the other room it was very distracting.

"Harley dear, would you please be so kind as to shut your fucking mouth? I don't want to incur the Joker's wrath by messing up this first batch of gas."

"Sorry Doc. Say Jonathan, do you think you can fix me up a bit? You know, before Mister J. gets back?"

I stood up and walked into the other room. Harley's face was already showing signs of bruising, her makeup smearing because of the blood that was poring from her nose. I bent down and took her face in my hands.

"Harley, I have far more important things to do right now. I could care less about you looking pretty for the Joker. You're a doctor, I think, fix it yourself."

Then I through her back into the couch and returned to my work. She sat there in silence for a long time. But eventually she began to cry once more. I loaded a dose of my gas into the weapons system the Joker provided for me and went to see Harley.

"Now listen to me Harly. Stop this incessant blubbering or I will give you something to cry about, do you understand me? I'll' help make you as insane as the Joker and I. Is that what you want?"

"Fuck you Jonathan! You won't do it. You wouldn't want to make the Joker mad."

"In case you haven't noticed Harley dear…the Joker isn't here."

After gassing her I watched her for a little while longer. Her thrashing around in fear was strangely attractive to me. Finally I returned to my work, whistling along to Harley's screams of terror.


	13. The Highs Are Running Low

"Doctor Crane, the people in the control both w-w-w-w-w-want you."

There we all were, standing around in the studio Channel 3 News. Taking over the station had been easy. Harley, who surprisingly enough had maintained a fragile hold on her sanity, had shot the only security guard in the forehead upon our entry.

I followed Tetch into the control booth and couldn't help but smile to myself. The technicians were all busy cooperating as best they could. They were of the belief that Joker was actually going to let them leave alive.

"It's ready Doctor Crane…I mean Scarecrow."

"This feed will cut into all cable channels?"

"Yes."

"You're quite certain?"

"Yes. Are you going to let us all go home now?"

Turning to look at the hapless news station employees I saw the fear that was running rampant across their faces. It was…beautiful. But alas I had to break the news to them sooner or later.

"I see two possible ways of you all getting to leave this place. Neither of them is particularly pleasant. The first way is in a body bag, courtesy of the white faced fellow out there. The second will be in a strait jacket. A…somewhat…painless death to the person who can correctly guess who that will be?"

Tears began to stream down the faces of the women. The men started to realize what their fates would be. Now they didn't know that I was missing my mask. It was locked up in some police evidence locker so all I had was a gas mask Joker had provided. But I was confident that would be enough to push their pathetic minds past the breaking point.

"No one knows the answer? Very well. I'll give you until the end of the Joker's little broadcast to figure out how you would like leave."

I signaled to the Joker that everything was ready. He in turn ordered the lights to be dimmed, the theme music to be played, and the news anchors to ready themselves. As the people of Gotham were having their prime time television interrupted, Joker positioned himself next to the male anchor and put his gun to the man's head.

"Good evening Gotham, I'm Pat Hamels. Tonight we bring you a special news bulletin, but first something to make you laugh."

Joker then pulled the trigger of his gun. Instead of a gunshot a tiny red flag that read BANG popped out.

"Oh God, oh thank you. Thank you God. Thank…"

The man's sentence was stopped short. Joker had pulled the trigger once more, causing the flag to shoot into the anchor's skull. Joker kicked him out of the chair and sat down next to the screaming, blood soaked female anchor.

"Hello Gotham, I'm Joe Kerr. I'll be filling in for Pat who has taken an unexpected vacation to that big ol' studio in the sky. HAHAHA! Tonight Pat was going to open with a story about Two-Face, so I don't think I'll deviate from his script."

At that time I wasn't fully aware just how much of an obsession the Joker had with Two-Face. It goes back further than I know even now. The relationship between Harvey Dent and the Joker is one I will never fully understand.

"He robbed another bank today, killed fourteen people including a mother and child. I just want to say that you better shove another piece of what's left into your mouth while the getting's good Two-Face, because the highs will be running low now that I'm back. Oh Lord have I been down Gotham. You've been seeing another boy, and I have to say that I'm crushed. HAHAHA! But me and my boys are gonna smoke the cigarettes that we find in that other man's tray. We're gonna pick all the meat from the big city's bones. You'll see Gotham, I'm a man of my word. But enough of this serious talk, I want to end tonight's little broadcast with a joke."

Joker then pulled on his gasmask, as did all of his goons. I directed Tetch, Casanova, and Clayface to do the same.

"Alright Jan are you ready for my little joke? Here it goes. A skeleton walks into a bar. He goes up to the bartender and asks for a drink…and a mop! GET IT! HAHAHA!"

Joker reached down to the flower on the lapel of his jacket and sprayed the poor female anchor with the gas I had created for him. She began to laugh uncontrollably, her face muscles beginning to tear upwards into a smile similar to Joker's. She was actually in a horrendous amount of pain. The muscles in her face were nothing but shreds. She was slowly suffocating, unable to stop laughing. After a few minutes she keeled over dead.

"Wow Doc…that was something else. HAHAHA! By the way, on my way home I stopped by the 34th Precinct and got you a present."

Joker pulled something out of his coat and through it towards me. It was my mask. Oh I can remember how good it felt to put it back on. Sort of like slipping into a warm bath. Even my other was calmed, the mask halting his endless howling if only for a few moments.

"Can I have the ones in the control booth Joker?"

"Sure Doc. GO NUTS! HAHAHA!"

Joker watched as I finished up inside the booth. Maybe he wanted to see who exactly he had asked to join him. You see when I put the mask on I become something different entirely. I'm not totally my other. But I'm not totally me either. I become a twisted combination of the two of us. One that is cold, calculated, and vicious.

But o tell the truth I think he was just curious to see my gas first hand. It was glorious to watch the pigs run about the booth, clawing at each other. This new gas made people much more prone to violence, which is something Joker and I both enjoyed.

After I had finished I removed my mask and followed the Joker outside. We were preparing to pull off when he jumped out of the car and ran back inside the studio. He came back a few minutes later and ordered the driver to get us the hell out of there.

"W-w-w-where did you go Joker?"

"I happened to overhear you talking to the Doc last night Jervis. You pointed at some different chemicals and told the good doctor that if he mixed those he could make one hell of an explosion."

The car shook as the studio exploded behind us, engulfing neighboring buildings in flames.

"I decided to leave them a little present. HAHAHA!"

The sick laugh echoed into the night, drowning out the sirens.


	14. House Call

"_Gotham PD is scrambling tonight after the gruesome attack on the Channel 3 News. Commissioner Loeb is under fire this morning for failing to inform the public that the Joker, perhaps the most vicious murderer in the city's history escaped from Arkham Asylum two days ago."_

"HAHAHA! Now that's more like it, eh Doc?"

The city was already in a panic. It was rank with fear. The Joker knew this, but he was making us wait. He told me that he was gathering his forces together. I didn't know what he meant then. I mean Joker had worked for the mob, and all of the mob enforcers had gone to Two-Face's side after Joker's imprisonment.

"_We managed to get this exclusive interview with Lieutenant James Gordon, the lead investigator in the Joker case, while he was leaving the ruins of the Channel 3 News Station."_

"_Lieutenant Gordon, why didn't the Gotham PD let the public know the Joker was on the loose?"_

"_At the time the commissioner didn't feel it was necessary to worry the people of Gotham, but we had no clue he would make such a vicious move so quickly."_

"_Lieutenant, how does the Joker's escape effect Gotham PD's pursuit of Two-Face?"_

"_It doesn't."_

"_Lieutenant, what about Batman? Will he be called in to assist the police?"_

"_No comment, now get the hell out of my way. I have a job to do."_

"_Lieutenant Gordon one more question. Do you have any advice for the people of the city? Any tips on staying safe during this crisis?"_

Gordon then grabbed the microphone from the reporter and looked directly into the camera. It was almost like he was talking directly to me, which is why I think I took what he said as a personal challenge.

"_We can't let these madmen change our lives. Go about your daily routines. Go to the bank, the store, the park. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT BE AFRAID."_

"_Are you afraid Lieutenant Gordon?"_

"_Of course not. NOW MOVE!"_

The Joker did not take the pig's comments well. Of course his smile was ever present. But his fists were clenched so tight that blood was starting to drip to the floor. But before he lost all control of himself my other made a suggestion. It was a truly despicable idea. But alas, I couldn't help but agree with him.

"Joker I think I have an idea."

"Do tell Doc."

"I think we should go and see how unafraid Lieutenant Gordon actually is."

Harley was pummeling Sarah Gordon, the pretty young wife of the Lieutenant, who was tied to a chair in the living room. The Joker was sulking in the corner of the apartment. He had been disappointed that the pig wasn't around when we went to visit.

"Thank you Clayface, you can set them right there."

Karlo dropped the two children to the floor. The girl was trying her best to protect her brother. Her little brother was cowering behind her in fear. We saw the look in Tetch's eyes, but decided it would be best to not let him kill the girl. We had something much better planned.

"Hello children. Our name is Scarecrow. What are your names?"

"Oh God…please don't hurt my babies Doctor Crane. Please don't…"

Mrs. Gordon's protests were stopped by a kick to the face from Harley.

"Well children?"

"Scarecrow? Like from the Wizard of Oz?"

"Well…something like that."

"My name is Barbara. This is my little brother Anthony. Are you gonna keep hurting my Mommy?"

We turned and saw that Harley was still beating the pig's wife. We walked over and pulled up a chair to talk to her.

"Harley, leave poor Mrs. Gordon alone for the time being. We need to have a chat with her. Mrs. Gordon, do you understand the difference between rational and irrational fear?"

The woman could do nothing but sob uncontrollably. She was pathetic.

"We'll take that as a no, but please let us explain. You see most people's greatest fear is an irrational one. For example we can see your son is terrified of clowns by the way he keeps staring at Joker there, though he isn't the one he should be afraid of."

"Please…just let them go."

"Now a rational fear is fear of something that might actually happen. Like fear of flying for example. We've noticed in my experiments that most women, especially mothers, share very similar fears. But what's unique is that it is a combination of irrational and rational fear. Mother's are very afraid for the well being of their children, which is totally rational. So tell me Mrs. Gordon, are you scared right now? Are you scared that we might hurt you?"

"Yes…yes…yes I'm scared."

"See that's very irrational because we're not here to hurt you. We're here to hurt your children."

We stood up and started to walk towards the children. But when we were finally standing over them we had a little internal conflict.

"Joker we need your help. Which one should we pick? You're so much at better at these sorts of things than we are."

"Wait Jonathan! I have a great idea!"

"What's that Harley dear?"

"Make this bitch pick which one to save."

The Joker began to chuckle to himself, very amused with the idea. We though it would be interesting to see. It would also give us an insight into the thought process of a mother. We walked back towards the woman and looked her in the eye.

"Well Mrs. Gordon which is it going to be?"

"No…you can't make me pick. God please…you can't make me pick."

"Oh but we're afraid you have to Mrs. Gordon. Either you choose, or we'll kill both of them."

Joker began to laugh even harder. That gave us an insight into the Joker's mind. Some men want nothing more than to see the suffering of others, and the Joker was just such a man.

Mrs. Gordon was quiet for several minutes. I was preparing to kill both of her little brats when I heard her mumble something.

"Pardon me Mrs. Gordon, but we didn't quite catch that. Care to repeat yourself?"

"Anthony…I said take Anthony."

"That's an interesting choice. Your son is younger, would carry on the family's name, and would be more likely to carry on in the footsteps of his father. But perhaps you just like girls better."

"HAHAHA! HAHAHA!"

We walked over to the little boy, tossing his sister out of the way. We then lifted him up by the throat and sprayed him with the gas. We loved to hear our victims scream. But we like to see the look in their eyes even more.

And the look in Anthony Gordon's eye was one of complete and utter despair. It was as if every story he had heard about a Heaven filled with a loving God and beautiful angels was revealed to be a lie.

We watched as he went into cardiac arrest. Then the light in his eyes died. It was sad to see so much fear stolen away from us by the icy hand of death. But he was gone, and we let his body drop to the floor.

Mrs. Gordon stared speechless, almost refusing to believe what had just happened. The little girl shook her brother's body in a pointless attempt to wake him from his endless slumber. Joker signaled to everyone that it was time to leave, so we followed.

"This was a good session Mrs. Gordon. Have a pleasant evening. You'll be receiving our bill in the mail."

"HAHAHA! Tell your hubby I said hello Mrs. Gordon."

We left the decimated family alone and returned to the Narrows.


	15. Finding Funerals

"Joker, where are we going?"

"I don't want to ruin the surprise Doc. Just _wake_ awhile. HAHAHA!"

I didn't understand the Joker's bad pun at the time, but things would be made clear very soon. We, meaning Joker, Clayface, and I, along with a few of Joker's old mob thugs were hurtling through Downtown Gotham. Joker had directed me to bring my mask, so I assumed we were off too business.

"Tetch and Casanova are getting restless Joker, Casanova especially. I promised him a feast to make his stomach tear at the seams. We've been out of Arkham for over a week now. How much longer do they have to wait?"

"Feast he will Doc, and feast well. Soon all will be ready. Tomorrow we have a meeting with some important people."

"We?"

"Oh I'm no people person Doc. From what I understand you can be quite the motivator, so I'm taking you along. Oh goody…we're here."

The van came to a stop outside of Swift and Rice Funeral Home. That's when I began to realize why exactly we were out that night. I fully understood what the Joker meant when he told me to _wake_ awhile. That was the night of Anthony Gordon's wake.

"Well Doc…lets go pay our respects. HAHAHA!"

The mask went on. We came out. Joker and his men in first, guns drawn. Clayface and us following close behind.

"EVENING FOLKS! HAHAHA!"

He fired his pistol into the ceiling, causing sweet, sweet screams to ring through the little room. The pig Gordon was there of course, as was his wife. But ooking around we saw some of the most prominent members of the Gotham City community. Police Commissioner Loeb, Lucius Fox the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, my old friend Judge Faden, and even the mayor of Gotham City himself.

But perhaps the most famous person attending the wake was billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne. We still find that to be incredibly interesting. We've tried to figure out why someone like him would attend the wake of some inconsequential little boy, but We're getting off topic again.

"YOU BASTARDS! I'LL KILL YOU!"

We took the liberty to silence Gordon with a swift kick to the gut. It upsets us that everyone underestimates our physical strength.

"Crane you son of a bitch. YOU MONSTER! He was just a boy, he never hurt anyone."

"You seem to be in a tremendous amount of grief Lieutenant Gordon. We suggest you seek some counseling. We believe your wife can attest that we're highly qualified. If you would like to schedule an appointment we can give you our card."

"HAHAHA!"

None of those arrogant little pigs knew what to do. They stared at each other nervously. No I think terrified is a better way to describe it. They knew full well how the Joker didn't leave many survivors. But tonight he was there to put an exclamation point on his triumphant return to Gotham.

Joker then started to act as though he were crying, which proved difficult because of his constant smile. He edged closer to the coffin of the poor boy. He then leaned over the edge of the coffin, and placed something inside the boy's coffin. Joker quickly ran back to the other side of the room and stuck his fingers in his ears.

The coffin exploded, engulfing the coffin and nearby mourners in flames. Splinters were sent flying by the concussive blast of the hand grenade.

"HAHAHA! HAHAHA! Talk about going out with a bang. HAHAHA!"

Joker's thugs began to laugh as well. Even Clayface clapped his hands and chuckled to himself. But that was stopped short by the arrival of Batman.

We have often pondered what make's a man dress up at a bat and run around through the night. What makes him so different from the Joker? Or Casanova? Or us even? Joker once told me that all it takes for someone to go insane is one bad day. We wonder what Batman's bad day was like.

Batman came crashing through the window of the funeral home, tossing his silly little boomerangs at Joker's men. Of course he easily dispatched them, followed by the Joker. Then as those pigs ran for safety he turned to us.

"CRANE!"

He pounced on us, lifting us into the air. We knew we wouldn't have to gas him.

"Why Crane? WHY? Are you really that much of a monster?"

"Oh Batman, you should know shouldn't you? You made us what we are. You made us worse. You turned our gas on us, very ill advised. It really isn't something to be used against a person with serious mental illness."

"Well you'll have plenty of time for therapy when you're back at Arkham."

"We don't think so Batman. CLAYFACE!"

The massive man ripped Batman away from me. Try as he might Batman could do next to nothing to harm Clayface. The giant on the other hand had no problem what so ever with Batman. Clayface tossed him around like a rag doll.

Then gunshots rang out. Clayface threw Batman against the wall and turned on his other attacker. Lieutenant Gordon continued to fire as Clayface moved towards him. But the building was catching fire. It was time to leave. We ordered Clayface to gather up the Joker. We figured his henchmen were meaningless.

Clayface tossed Joker into the car and we drove away from the burning building.


	16. It's All In The Delivery

The next night I found my self in a similar position to the one before, driving through the city with the Joker and his men. Once again he refused to tell me where exactly we were going. But I knew it was to some sort of gathering.

"Who are we meeting Joker?"

"Just a few people who will want to join the cause. At least they will once you start talking to them."

"And why is it you think that?"

Joker turned away from the window and looked at me. It was a very odd thing to see. It is the only time I remember the Joker actually coming down to my level and speaking to me like an actual person and not some character in a comic book.

"You're a leader Jonathan. I can tell by the way my boys look at you. They listen to me because I'll kill them if they don't. They listen to you because they know you'll steer them in the right direction. You have a certain way with words you academic types. You should have these people we're meeting with ready to follow you to Hell and back with just a few sentences."

The car came to a stop in front of a large warehouse. I had been there before, back when Carmine Falcone ran it. It had fallen into the hands of Two-Face upon the Joker's incarceration, but he had managed to take it back with the few mob enforcers still loyal to him.

We entered through the back door. It was a run down, decaying building most certainly on its last leg. I noticed the hum of the buildings generators but there was another noise behind that.

Joker opened another door into the main part of the warehouse and I saw what it was. Assembled there was well over two hundred men and women, most of them younger than myself. Joker continued threw the door but turned when he noticed I wasn't following.

"Let's go Doc, I need you to talk to these folks."

"You said we were meeting a few people Joker."

"That's right. I did say a few thousand didn't I? I guess I forgot to mention it. HAHAHA!"

I followed Joker into the room. Everyone in the room fell silent. The horde in front of me watched Joker closely, all of them studying his movements.

"GOOD EVENING LADIES AND GERMS! HAHAHA!"

No thunderous applause. Just a stunned silence. It was almost as if they were surprised the Joker, the notorious madmen they had heard so much about, had actually attempted a joke. Especially one that was so poor.

"See what I mean Doc. This is where you take over. I just wanted to make sure they knew who I was."

"Joker I'm not prepared for any of this. I don't know who they are, what you said to bring them here, or even what you want them to do."

"I called on ten representatives from every street gang in the city. Show up here, under a banner of truce, and learn of a marvelous opportunity to get back at Gotham City. As you can see they're eager to here more, so get to it Doc."

"You should be the one talking to them"

"Oh no, no, no Doc. I'm terrified of public speaking. HAHAHA!"

Gotham City indeed has some of the most legendary gangs in the country. Many of them were formed in the eighteen hundreds and have occupied the same territory for centuries.

It was often speculated that if an organized leader could get them to work together they could easily overthrow the mob and become the dominant force in the city's underworld. But the one attempt that was made in the nineteen seventies failed when the man attempting the organization was shot and killed by another gang.

I walked back and forth across the loading platform that served as my little stage. The gangs were tightly packed into the warehouse, some forced to stand on boxes or sit on the rafters. They were nervous. The tension in the air was almost tangible.

"Look around! Tell me what you see!"

"I SEE A CLOWN, A NERD, AND A BUNCH OF GUYS I BEEN AT WAR WITH FOR YEARS!"

The comment sent a mix of laughter and worried glances shooting through the crowd. Each gang was set even more on edge at the mention of war.

"I see Warriors standing next to Punks. Depressionistas side by side with the Buffalo Girls. The Riffs sitting two feet away from the Turncoats. Nobody is killing anybody."

The gangs looked around. It was almost as if they hadn't noticed it.

"For far to long have you been held down by Gotham's upper class. For far to long have you had to fight for parts of the city that were desolate and dying, while they sit in their high rise apartments sipping champagne. They have tricked you into killing each other for generations, over what? Turf…a little piece of turf?"

"I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING! THE LAST GUY WHO TRIED TO DO WHAT THE CLOWN IS DOING GOT SHOT!"

The momentum I had been gaining was lost. Oh how I wished to be close enough to gas the impatient little banger who had sowed more seeds of dissension amongst the mob.

"Just think for a moment. There are over two hundred of you standing here, from twenty different gangs. Some of you have more than a hundred members back at your safe houses. That's two thousand bangers. More than the police. More than Two-Face himself."

"TWO-FACE! YOU WANT US TO GO TO WAR AGAINST TWO-FACE?"

"No. I just want you all to act like us."

I gestured to Joker and myself. It was met with quizzical looks from the assembled gangs. I saw that I would have to offer a greater explanation.

"None of you will be asked to attack Two-Face directly. The Joker has men far more qualified for that than you. But we need to keep the authorities occupied while Joker performs. So we want you to be as remorseless, vicious, and insane as we are. Wreak havoc on Gotham City. Do what ever it is you deem necessary to bring pale Hell to this town."

The idea was well received. The look in the eyes of the mob was one of anticipation. They were more than ready to strike back at the city that had kept them down trodden for so long.

"BUT IF THE CLOWN IS WORRYING ABOUT THAT OTHER NUTCASE, WHO IS GONNA BE IN CHARGE OF US?"

"That would be me."

Laughter spread through the crowd like wildfire. But I was ready for such a response, it was a typical one. Falcone's thugs had been the same way before I gassed one of them. So I signaled out one of the weaker gangs, I believe they call them selves the Orphans. Joker's men brought up all but their leader. I put my mask on and ordered Joker's thugs to move aside.

We gassed them. Their screams were more than enough to win us the allegiance of the gangs. We ripped the Orphan's minds into pieces. But we let the leader go back alive. No reason to destroy an entire gang to prove our point.

"OK! WE'RE WITH YOU! BUT WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO!"

They all gathered close. I had them wrapped around my finger. My words were creeping round their heads like a vine.

"We'll drain full confession booths, polluting drinking wells with our repentance. Then we'll stand grinning with our arms around the shoulder of a rotting child. Hold that pose for those arrogant little pigs who would sooner devour their siblings than surrender their wealth."

"KILL THOSE BASTARDS!"

"TEAR'EM TO PIECES!"

"Rob. Rape. Murder. It is time they reap what they sowed so many years ago. Prey on the faint of heart, the weak, the innocent."

"NO MERCY!"

They had been whipped into a fervor. They would have gone out that night and stormed City Hall had I told them too. But not all of them were sure of themselves quite yet.

"WHAT IF WE CAN'T DO IT? YOU KNOW WHAT IF WE CAN'T BE LIKE YOU SCARECROW? HOW DO YOU DO THAT STUFF?"

Yet again my momentum was stopped as if I had run head long into a brick wall. Their excitement died down. It might just have been curiosity. They may actually have wanted to know how I did what I did. I of course got over feeling bad about the things I did when I was a child. But I decided that it wouldn't hurt to let the mob in on my rationale.

"I tie the devil to the tracks. I keep Hell in my heart. I make no excuse for my genius."

"BUT WHAT IF HELL ABANDONS YOU?"

"You entice the Devil out with bottle. Or maybe it's He who lures you out instead. I've slept in penitent beds and awoke in the loving arms of attrition. So what's your excuse? Isn't Hell courting you?"

The mobs excitement was building again. I had to capitalize on the opportunity I now had. I had to assure them I would be there for them, that they should follow me.

"I'll give you the strength to be without. I'll be condemned with you all. I'll be damned with you all."

"TELL US MORE SCARECROW!"

"MORE! MORE! MORE!"

Soon they were all chanting for more. I wasn't giving them any special wisdom, but none of the great orators of the last time do. It's all in the delivery.

"I would rather live my life in regret than not take a part in it! Make amends with anything you've ever loved and open your arms to the swarm. If the Devil doesn't mind then that's all I ever need. So what will you do when the Devil doesn't notice you?"

"WE'LL RAIN HELL AND SALT THE EARTH!"

"I tie the Devil to the tracks. Can you hear the train coming? It's time to tie those tracks in a hangman's noose around the neck of this beautiful town. I'll keep Hell if Hell will have me? What about you?"

"I'LL KEEP HELL!"

"I'LL KEEP HELL IN MY HEART!"

"You know what you need to do."

I turned and walked back through the door. The Joker was already in the car waiting for me.

"What did I tell you Doc? You're a natural. HAHAHA!"

That would begin the most dark and violent period in the entire history of Gotham.


	17. The Restless

It started slowly. It wasn't flashy. It didn't start in Midtown, but on the outskirts of the city. It was actually a fairly typical crime in terms of what Gotham has seen between the Joker and I. Just some man, robbed and murdered on his way home from work.

Then it happened again. Another man was robbed and murdered on his way back from the office. But this time the muggers went back to the man's home and attacked his wife. Raped and killed her before they set her apartment building on fire.

After that the attacks increased, but they slowly started to evolve. No longer did the attackers steal anything from their victims. They killed people just for the sheer enjoyment of it.

The Gotham Gazette finally took notice when a woman was eviscerated and found hanging by her intestines from a fire escape in the Narrows. The newspaper had the ridiculous idea that it was some sort of occult ritual. I think they would have found the actual truth far more disturbing.

Then Joker told me to order the gangs escalation. They did so without hesitation. Now instead of beating solitary pedestrians in dark alleys they shot people out in the open. They were all so beautiful. They had no fear, no remorse. They were all so free.

The Gotham Police Department did what they could. But that was very little. The police were fighting a war on two fronts. They had to continue to attempt capturing Two-Face, but they also had to try and curb the mayhem caused by the gangs.

Two-Face himself was fighting on two fronts as well. He had to continue his campaign against the Gotham PD, who he thought had failed him and had caused the death of his family and his descent into madness. Two-Face also had to worry about the Joker, who took the fight to Two-Face almost daily.

Joker robbed banks where mob money was being held, which Two-Face had been using as funds. He attacked the mob's money launderers. He killed mob enforcer's and their families by the dozens. Joker almost caught Two-Face unprepared once, but Two-Face was just able to escape.

I meanwhile let loose my flock on the city. Casanova must have been ravenous because he had killed two couples in the first week I let him out. The Gotham Gazette noticed this as well.

'_BIG BAD WOLF COMES CALLING ONCE AGAIN!''_

That's what the headline read. But apparently people don't read the newspaper like they used too. Casanova continued his feast, killing another eleven couples within the next three months.

Little girls started to go missing too. Some stolen off the street, other plucked from their bed in the middle of the night. Tetch had found himself a bit of a following actually. A gang called the High Hats, street thugs who fancied themselves thespians, aided Tetch in his sick fantasy. They even went so far as to turn an abandoned mall in the East End into Tetch's Wonderland.

As Joker promised he would abduct people off the street for me to experiment on. The Narrows was lost to the police within the first month so I was able to operate out of Arkham with complete safety. I so loved it there, I've always loved it. I used to be able to see it from the dirty windows of grandmother's apartment.

On occasion Joker would let me borrow some of his men and allow me to tear through some of Gotham's high class office buildings. I can remember every single second, every scream, every desperate cry for help, every meaningless call to God for mercy.

The other gangs continued the slaughter. For a while people thought that if they traveled together in large groups they would be safe. But it only made things easier. Now all they had to was pull up next to a group and open fire. They would often claim ten to twenty lives a group.

The subway system was decimated as well, not that anyone would actually be idiotic enough to attempt riding it. Tracks were barricaded, burned, bent, broken, and just generally destroyed.

After a while no one did anything. No went to work. No one went to the store. It was an incredibly eerie thing to see, the whole of Gotham City so silent like that. It was a ghost town. And when the darkness came no one turned their lights on, for fear it would attract the gangs.

Soon the only people on the streets were the police, the gangs, or the mob. All of them gunning for the others. You couldn't go a few hours without hearing gunshots or explosions ring out.

It was war. It was Hell. It was everything Joker could have wanted and more. And the fear in the city was oppressive. It was almost palpable. My other and I were in constant ecstasy.

And Batman? What could he do? He is just a single man after all. He was just one man against an overwhelming tide of senseless violence. How can one man hope to do anything against such reckless hate?

It did not stop him from trying though. He would frequently ride into the Bowery or Brunley or the Narrows and come back dragging entire gangs behind him. He reminded me of some sort of Anglo-Saxon warrior, or a medieval knight. Someone who refused to accept defeat, a knight who would throw himself at an invincible foe until he perished. A black knight. A dark knight.

Then something changed. I won't say the Joker didn't expect it, I actually think he was looking forward to it. But Batman started to make a difference. I couldn't wrap my head around it then. I didn't understand how he could fight so hard, withstand so much pain, and for what? For a city that wanted to see him locked away. For a people that care more for themselves than for others.

Even worse than Batman were the police. Inspired by their caped crusader, and driven ever forward by the tireless Lieutenant Gordon, they too began to turn things around. They ended up killing Casanova. His hunger became too much for him and he attacked two undercover police officers.

The abducted officers had trackers on which the Gotham PD used to find where Casanova had taken them. The Gotham Central Zoo, more specifically the Wolf House. Casanova killed the two undercover officers and managed to take out another three before he was finally killed. His body count ended up totaling twenty eight people in the span of four months.

Then something even worse happened. The Joker was carried back to my asylum after a shootout with Two-Face's men and the police. He was dying.


	18. Shoot Me In The Smile

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Doc! You have to help him Doc! Mister J. is hurt real bad!"

We had been busy conducting an experiment at the time, but Harley's calls for help dragged us up from the basement. I had originally thought Harley was overreacting as she often did. But upon removing my mask and looking at the Joker I saw how bad it really was.

"What happened?"

"He got shot."

"HAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Blood bubbled out of the Joker's mouth. Upon further examination I discovered that he had taken a shotgun blast to the upper chest. It couldn't have been from very close range judging by the distance between the bullet holes, that was the good news. The bad news was that he was losing a lot of blood from the holes near the bottom of his and that there was a good deal of buckshot lodged in the area around his heart.

"Was he shot anywhere else?"

"Those bastards shot him in the gut too."

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I tore his shirt open and indeed there was a wound in his abdomen, though this looked to be from a handgun.

Now please understand that I am not a medical doctor. While I took standard human physiology classes I never once worked on saving another human being's life.

"We need to get him to the infirmary and get some x-rays on him now. Help me lift him up."

We rushed Joker to the infirmary and held him down as the x-ray machine scanned his body. He was fairly lucky. None of the bullets had hit any vital organs, if that had happened there would have been nothing I could have done for him. But an artery in his neck had been severed by a piece of buckshot.

"Give me the anesthetic over there. We need to stop him from laughing so I can close the artery in his neck."

"What are you gonna knock me out with Doc? LAUGHING GAS? HAHAHAHAHA!"

I injected him with the syringe of sufentanil and watched him drift off into unconsciousness. I then worked as quickly as I could, tying off the severed artery. His other wounds were also causing him to lose a lot of blood, something which I did not have a ready supply of.

"Hand me that IV Harley."

I rolled my sleeves up and inserted a needle into my vein. This was a big risk. I had no clue as to what blood type Joker was, but he needed it badly. I stuck the other needle into the Joker's arm and made sure my blood flowed into his body.

Then I continued the emergency surgery. I removed the bullet from his abdomen and managed to get most of the buckshot out of his chest. The asylum was devoid of the sutures I need to stitch Joker up, so I had to heat a scalpel and cauterize his wounds that way.

The entire process took an hour but at the end Joker was still breathing, thought be it very shallowly.

"Get out, there isn't anything else you can do. You're only going to get in my way."

"But I don't want to leave him Doc. What if something happens?"

"Harley…unless you feel the need for some more of my therapy you'll get the Hell out of this infirmary now."

Joker's men couldn't get out of the room fast enough and eventually Harley was scared off as well. Then it was just the Joker and I. One madman doing his best to save the other.

It was Joker who woke me up the next morning.

"Hey Doc, can you get me a little something for this?"

He motioned to the terrible burn marks I had been forced to inflict in order to save his life. I took the IV out of my arm and got up to get the Joker some morphine. I sat back down and injected it into his blood stream. He laid back on closed his eyes as the medicine soothed his pain.

"Thank you Jonathan…for everything."

It was another one of those very strange moments between the Joker and myself. One of those times where he ceased to be an over the top murderer and was reduced to a regular person. Being a psychiatrist I found this to be incredibly interesting, and since the Joker had no where to escape too I thought it would be good to probe further into his mind.

"What's your name Joker, your real name? You know mine and I feel like if we are going to continue this partnership I should know more about you."

The Joker weakly shifted about in his bed, obviously uncomfortable with the question.

"We have doctor patient confidentiality right? Hahaha…"

Even in the state he was in Joker couldn't help himself. It gave me another insight into the man's mind.

"Of course we do."

"Alright…Jack. My name is Jack Napier. Are you happy now?"

"Well…that's a good start…Jack."

I would spend the next day and a half learning about Jack Napier. Where he was born, what his childhood was like, how he became what he is now. But I won't list any of that here. He made me promise that I could never call him by his real name if there was another person around, and I could never under any circumstance reveal what I had learned about him to another living being. I gave him my word as a doctor

Joker had recovered in two weeks, but the two weeks he was inactive went bad for our side. Two-Face reclaimed significant amounts of territory and the police continued to crack down on the gangs with the assistance of Batman. Joker decided that it was time for his big performance and came to me for validation, something his seemingly boundless ego required on a daily basis.

"What, in your professional opinion as a doctor, do you recommend we do?"

"The thing making Two-Face the most money right now is the drug lab he has at Axis Chemicals. I think it's time we paid him a visit don't you?"

"I agree Doc. But I think we should invite someone else to the party."

"Who did you have in mind?"

"I've noticed Batman has a soft spot for a certain district attorney. I think you should go pick her up and bring her along. HAHAHA!"

"I agree."

I called together the few remaining gang members, Tetch, and Clayface and went to pay a visit to Ms. Rachel Dawes.


	19. Keeping Promises

There she stood. Pretentious little bitch.

She thought it was safe for her, District Attorney Rachel Dawes, to parade about her high rise apartment with her shades open. She acted as if during those four glorious months never happened. She pretended that scores of women, children, and other wise hadn't been piling up in the cities morgues.

Pretentious little bitch.

"Oh Miss Dawes…we thought you would have taken our warning more seriously."

She couldn't see the smile behind our mask, but it was there regardless. She wheeled around. Oh if only we could describe the look on her face. It wasn't fear, which was a little disappointing. It was more like surprise. As if she couldn't believe that we were invading the home of her, District Attorney Rachel Dawes, the noblest little DA in the history of Gotham City.

"We warned you about those court ordered goodbyes Miss Dawes. About how we weren't so good at following them."

"Crane…what are you doing here?"

"I happen to know someone who is throwing a little party. I was wondering if you might like to accompany me?"

Our smile turned into a soft chuckle as Dawes reached into her bedside table, desperately trying to find something. As if whatever she was searching for would make us magically disappear.

"Are you looking for this Miss Dawes?"

We stood up from the chair we had been occupying and pulled what she had been looking for from our pocket. The little taser with whom I was intimately acquainted. It was her sole line of defense.

"You should probably keep this kind of thing in your purse, in case you didn't notice there has been a crime surge recently."

"What are you trying to prove Crane?"

"Have you ever been shot with one of these things Miss Dawes? They're quite painful believe us."

"Batman will stop you Crane. He'll stop you and the..."

We pulled the trigger and stared as the barbs of the taser ripped into her face. The electricity pulsing through her body causing her to writhe on the floor in agony. We were never ones to derive pleasure from another's pain, but even we can make exceptions.

"Batman? What makes you think that Batman is so much different from us?"

"He…isn't a…monster…"

"Really? Well maybe you need to see things from our perspective"

Her screams were easily the best we heard throughout the time Hell spilled over into Gotham. We even experimented with the use of the electricity. The mix of cries of terror and screams of pain was nothing like anything we had ever experienced.

"Scarecrow I think you might w-w-w-w-want to see this."

"Jervis, you know better than to bother us while we're working."

"But Scarecrow, you are really going to w-w-w-w-want to see this."

Tetch shoved something into our hands and backed away like the thing carried some incurable disease. In our hands was what looked like a transmitter with a small flashing red light. There on the light was a little symbol. A symbol in the shape of a bat.

"Well…that somewhat accelerates our timetable. It appears we're going to have to cut our session a little short this week Miss Dawes, but don't worry. We won't charge you for the whole hour."

I took of the mask and directed Tetch and the High Hats to grab Dawes.

"Come along Miss Dawes, we have a party to get too. And I've never been one to be late."


	20. Where I Hang Myself

So this is where I find myself now. Here at Axis Chemicals.

Poor Karlo is dead at my feet. Shot by that bastard Two-Face. Looking back it might have been wrong for me to use Clayface the way I did. I tried my best to treat him well when he was with me. I promised him a family and that's what I gave him. He had died trying to save the Joker. But it's not as if I can go back and change anything.

Tetch, the sniveling little coward that I knew he was, prevented me from helping him. While I was watching the Joker get strung up over a vat of chemicals Tetch tried whispering to me.

"I w-w-was just trying to help you Doctor Crane. I didn't w-w-w-w-w-want to see anything bad happen to you. I told Two-Face you're a good doctor, I told him about w-what you can do. He's ready to give you a job."

"Jervis…I'm going to kill you. No, actually I think I'll make you kill yourself. It may not be today, or this month, or maybe even this year. But believe me when I say I will kill you for this. It's a promise."

Two-Face stood on the catwalk overlooking the vat, staring up at the Joker. He was more deformed than I was led to believe. The left side of his face was a disgusting purple, like he had been trapped in a freezer for years. His left eye was melted shut along with that side of his mouth. He had no hair on that side of his head, the follicles decimated by the acid, and his left ear had been seared away.

"You know Joker, my little girl gave me this coin. She said I was never good at making choices and that this thing would help me."

"Oh yes, I seem to remember something like that. Maybe you should have used it when I told you to pick who to save, your wife or you daughter. You think that might have helped you with that choice? HAHAHA!"

"Go on, keep laughing. I'm gonna flip this coin. Head, you drop strait down. Tails, you get a few extra seconds.

Two-Face sent the coin flying into the air, everyone in the room watching. He caught it in the air and peeked at it from under his hand.

"Enjoy your last few minutes on the Earth."

The Joker slowly started to drop. I didn't want to watch. Joker…Jack had become something like a friend. I've never really had friends. No one has ever stuck up for me, protected me, or tried to help me. But Jack did all of those.

"HAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! THAT"S ALL FOLKS! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Joker kept on laughing all the way into the chemicals. There were bubbles for a little while. But eventually they stopped. That's when I noticed him up in the rafters. Batman had finally arrived. Joker told me to bring the little transmitter along with Dawes, just in case we failed.

He snuck down and knocked out the thugs that were guarding Dawes. Two-Face didn't notice though. He was too occupied with watching the man who destroyed his life meet his end. I saw Dawes sneak out the back.

The gunfire has started. The bullets aren't hurting the Batman though. They just bounce off of him like insects. Such a useful trick. The henchmen guarding me have left, but I've already checked out.

I've always been at home in my own mind. It's the only place I have ever felt like I've had any power. So that's where I've decided to end it.

The only other human being I've ever felt connected too just drowned in some toxic chemicals. I'll be thrown back into Arkham Asylum, forced to endure Elwes's torture for the remainder of my days. I don't really want to do it anymore.

I killed my other. I strangled him while the Joker was being dropped into the chemicals. It probably wasn't something he was expecting.

I don't know what's going to happen. As far as I know no one has ever killed their conscious mind before. At least no one that actually did it has ever come forward saying so.

I've dictated everything that's happened the last couple months in my mind. I don't know if anyone will ever find this suicide "note," but I feel better after dictating it.

The only thing I ever distinctly remember my father saying to me was that home is where you hang yourself.

Home is where you hang yourself indeed.

**END**


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